


Concrete Angel

by PlotQueen



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-01
Updated: 1999-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlotQueen/pseuds/PlotQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A songfic to Concrete Angel telling of the horrors of abuse from innocent eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concrete Angel

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING. CHILD ABUSE. DEATH.

She walks to school with the lunch she packed  
Nobody knows what she's holdin' back  
Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday  
She hides the bruises with linen and lace

He walked behind her. He always walked behind her. To school, to lunch, to home. As far as the little boy knew she never noticed him walking there, ten steps behind. Ten steps. Far away enough to keep her from knowing, close enough to keep her safe.

It was the least he could, since she wasn't safe at home. Everybody knew, or at least suspected. How could they not when they could hear her screaming and crying every night? Hear her begging for them to stop. Begging her mommy and daddy to stop hitting her.

_Please! Please don't hurt me!_

He snorted at the thought. Mommies and daddies don't hurt their children. He might only be three years older than Katie, but he was ten. Double digits, that was nearly grown!

He sighed as he followed her. She was wearing the same dress she'd worn yesterday. You could see the wrinkles where she'd fallen asleep in it. And if you looked close enough you could almost see the bruises through the pale yellow cloth.

They'd be more visible when she got to school. She'd take off the pink sweater she wore and drape it across the back of her seat. Then the dark black marks would be there for all the world to see.

The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask  
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask  
Bearing the burden of a secret storm  
Sometimes she wishes she was never born

Her pale hair was pulled up into neat pigtails, pink ribbons wrapped around them. So sweet. So innocent. One of them slid across her face as she leaned forward to concentrate on her coloring better.

And then the teacher walked in front of the window. She went to Katie's desk and smiled at the picture. Then she frowned. Those bruises. Those horrible bruises. She was staring at them.

Do something, ask her, please! The little boy thought to himself. She was a grown-up. She could do something even if he couldn't.

And then the teacher shook her head.

 _Do something!_ he thought furiously. _Something, anything…please._

But the teacher walked away. And as she did Katie lifted her drawing and he stared. There was a house with a chimney. A tree stood next to it. And in front of were a mommy and a daddy. And a little girl.

But the little girl's figure had been scratched out with a black crayon.

Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel

He knelt next to his bed and folded his hands.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen."

His own mommy smiled and kissed his forehead after he crawled into his bed. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

The light flicked off and the door closed, and the little boy slid back to his knees.

"Dear God, please watch over Katie and keep her safe. Please help Katie to get a new mommy and a new daddy who love her." He paused and opened his eyes, staring up at his ceiling as if he were trying to see Heaven above him.

"And please God, don't let her scream tonight. Amen."

He crawled back into bed.

Somebody cries in the middle of the night  
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights  
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate  
When morning comes it'll be too late

The cries shook him out of the sleep he'd so recently found. It was Katie. She was screaming.

He was at his window in a heartbeat, staring at the shadows on her bedroom window. He could see someone hitting her, and Katie nearly falling with each blow. There was yelling, not Katie's, but he couldn't understand it. It was too far away to make out the words.

Please, God, oh please, let someone help her this time.

But as he looked towards the street he watched porch lights flicker and go out as the people inside ignored Katie. All but one. One stayed on.

But it was too late.

The little boy turned back to Katie's window and watched as a shadow fell. A large shadow onto her small and fragile one. And then her shadow fell.

It did not get back up.

Tears slid down his cheeks as he watched, waiting and praying for Katie to get back up. He didn't even notice when the sirens and flashing lights made everyone on the street peer out their windows and stand just outside their open doors. There were plenty of lights now. But he never knew.

Instead he sat there, his head bowed in grief, and wondered why.

His head was still bowed as the stretcher was rolled out. There was nothing to see anyway. Only a black bag with a small length inside it.

Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel

"Honey, say your prayers."

He smiled angelically at her. "I will, Mommy. I will."

She smiled back and closed the door behind her. The smile faded from the little boys face and he crawled into his bed, prayers unsaid.

He'd made a decision the night before, the night Katie had died. He would never say his prayers again. Not to a god who didn't listen.

He wouldn't pray. Besides, he'd get better results on his own.

He'd already made his decision.

A statue stands in a shaded place  
An angel girl with an upturned face  
A name is written on a polished rock  
A broken heart that the world forgot

They let her parents come to the funeral. He heard his daddy say the judge was stupid, too softhearted and optimistic. Then he'd said it was okay, because when the trial came it wouldn't matter if they'd posted bail (whatever that was), everyone knew what they'd done and they'd testify.

His mommy had said if someone had done something sooner Katie would still be alive.

The little boy thought his mommy was right. So why hadn't she done anything?

He supposed it was a nice funeral. He didn't really care. All he saw was the small white coffin, and the angel statue behind it. The face almost looked like Katie.

But it was only rock. It would never be Katie.

Her name was written at the bottom of the statue, just under the feet. And so were the two dates: her birth date and the day she died.

Tears stung his eyes. Six years. She should have had more. She should have had so many more.

But, he decided silently, at least they wouldn't have any more.

They wouldn't have any more at all.

Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel

It was raining as he climbed through Katie's window. He was wet down to his socks. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was what he had clutched in his hand and what he was about to do.

He'd never been in Katie's house but he figured her parents were in the room with the closed door. He crept down the hallway leaving small wet footprints as he went.

The door opened quietly and he was right. Two bulks lay under the covers in the bed. He wasted no time.

He was standing next to the bed staring at thee man. Katie's daddy. He fired and dark blood sprayed across the other form.

She screamed, sitting up, staring at him.

"You killed Katie," he said softly.

She stared at him, her eyes wide.

He fired again.

When the police arrived he was still standing there, his hair and clothes candy coated in blood.


End file.
